


Do I Wanna Know?

by platinumfail



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AmeCan, Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Historical Hetalia, USUK - Freeform, Unrequited Love, failed love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8864050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumfail/pseuds/platinumfail
Summary: He couldn't get her out of his mind. He had tried and tried...but still, 200 years later, she was still making his heart ache and hurt to the point that he just wanted the damn blood-pumping organ removed completely. A fem!America/England one shot, with eventual fem!America/Canada. (Song fic featuring "Do I Wanna Know" by the Arctic Monkeys.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> It has literally been a year and then some since I have uploaded a work to this account. I took a break from writing, and I just stumbled upon my drafts folder. I used to be a fan of Hetalia (and I now just saw the new season, and it was pretty good!) I found this old draft in my folder, and decided to finish it. I think I started this fic about 2 years ago!
> 
> I write Hetalia in a more serious light than it is presented in the show, since I am a huge history and politics buff and love adding in some of that. This fic has some historical background, which can be looked up. Just some basic stuff -- you really don't need to know these events in order to understand this fic.  
> I used to refuse to ship in Hetalia, but AmeCan grew on me extremely fast. USUK was always a small thing in the back of my head too. I decided to write with fem!America since there are hardly fem!America pics with Canada and England. Amelia is such a kick ass character, and I love her. 
> 
> I don't know if I'll do anymore Hetalia-related works, but if there is a request for it, I will consider! 
> 
> REMINDER: THIS FIC HAS A LOT OF FLASHBACKS, AND THEY ARE ITALICIZED, so I'm sorry for the italic overkill <3 
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> Kayla

 

            He remembered when it all started. How could he forget? She was the small child in the tall green grass, in her little white nightgown, torn between choosing him or France. England looked down at his hands and sneered at the whiskey glass on his table, rolling his watery emerald eyes. He whispered out a string of cusswords directed towards that bastard Finland...for even finding him and France in that stream and declaring that he found a little toddler in the woods, laughing around. A new country. A new country that would bring England both joy and sorrow. Arthur closed his eyes and fluttered them open as he looked at the dinky alarm clock on his bedside table. Midnight.

_Do you ever get that feel that you can't shift the tide  
That sticks around like summat in your teeth?_

            He couldn't get the damn girl out of his mind. He raised her. He took care of her, made sure she was always doing well. He'd do anything to make her feel good. He felt hot tears begin to drip down his pale and gaunt cheeks, his eyes then shifting over to the calendar. July 4. He waited for her. He wanted her to fail. He wanted her to _crawl back to him_. He "conquered" Canada, her twin ‘brother,’ and sat in wait for her. One day, he got sick of waiting. He was going to get her. America was always his. From day one, she was his. His mind suddenly propelled him to 1814...when he set America's capital ablaze.

_"Art-Arthur!" She shrieked, seeing D.C. engulfed in crimson flames, him just standing there, his arms crossed as his "red-coated" soldiers doused the White House with the intent to set every single public government building in the area ablaze._

_Have you got color in your cheeks?_

_Tears streaked her pale face, a blotching of pink in her cheeks from the distance she ran from the capitol building, in her old military clothes, horror painted upon her gentle features, her bright blue eyes raking over his tall and slim figure, his blonde hair shining in the light of the flames, his emerald eyes full of both surprise and hatred. The image of her beautiful capital gone with the plumes of black smoke and the shrieks from residents._

_"Don't worry. Just the public buildings." He spat, standing to fully face her, nodding to his main general to continue the assault on the White House, wanting the structure burnt to the ground with mere ashes left as evidence._

_"Stop, Arthur, please stop!" She cried, obviously in pain._

_"How does it feel?" He darkly smirked, pulling her up off of the ground, their noses touching._

_"I-" She breathed, her blue eyes searching for anything reminiscent of love in his eyes...like he had back when she was in her childhood._

_"It's war, America." He sneered, his pale lips baring his white teeth._

_"Why won't you just leave me alone? I'm independent! Get that through your damn skull!" She screamed, thrashing in his arms, punching him hard in the jaw. He staggered back, eyes wide._

_"Because you're mine!" Arthur hissed, the desire obviously in his eyes._

_"You should've thought about that before you left me to fend for myself, Arthur! What the hell did you fucking expect? When you came back, I was a grown woman!" She spat, aiming to throw another punch._

            Arthur quickly shook his head, propelled back to the present, hearing the faint whistle of fireworks in the background. Of course he'd stay in New York with America during her birthday. She was already in bed. Arthur managed to smile for her, trying to put the event that happened about 200 years ago behind him. That ache never went away. It made him feel empty. He went to bed before his ex-colony did, being sure to bring some alcohol with him. He had to drown it out somehow. He took a sip from his glass and stared up at the white ceiling, the whistle of more fireworks entering the air and exploding loudly. He blinked slowly, another memory clouding his eyes.

            _"America! I'm back, just like I said I would!" Arthur eagerly announced in the large house that he left to America. He had been busy, fighting off France and throwing himself into more debt. He desperately needed America's help and resources. He just couldn't wait to see the sweet little girl that he raised again. She always made him feel so young. She'd grab his hand and excitedly tell him things, hug him around the neck, and look up to him._

_"Huh? Oh, hey British dude!" A voice called, entering the room._

_Arthur felt his emerald eyes widen to the size of planets. She...she had...grown._

_Are there some aces up your sleeve?_

_This had come as a complete and total surprise to Arthur. She was tall, and she had most certainly filled out. She didn't have noticeable breasts, but they were there — puberty had treated her very well. Her blonde hair was a bit darker in color, and her cowlick had grown a centimeter or two. Her eyelashes were longer, her blue eyes a bit darker. Her pale lips had become plump and soft, like two pink rose petals that Arthur found himself wanting to experiment on with his own lips, feel it against his skin. Her skin was a creamy pale. Her hips had filled out, creating a nice little curve._

_"I...I...y-you...you got...big!" Arthur nearly squeaked, pointing at the former small child of a colony._

_"Well…yeah.” She giggled, shaking her head, stepping closer to him._

            _Arthur stood in a state of shock, finding himself stepping closer to her, his instinct screaming at him to just reach out and touch her. She was older. She was no longer a little child. Arthur found himself suddenly stepping back in surprise, nearly tripping over his own feet. He heard a faint giggle leave the girl's lips, his heart fluttering very fast. He had felt this way since...hell...he hadn't felt this way since the beginning of time! She studied him, her eyes calculating, yet gentle._

_"I missed you..." She managed to speak._

            Arthur once again snapped out of his damn flashback, downing the rest of the whiskey that was left in his shot glass, the clink of ice against the glass music to his ears. He pulled his knees to his chest and slammed his forehead into his knees, grimacing. He couldn't get her out of his mind. He had tried and tried...but still, 200 years later, she was still making his heart ache and hurt to the point that he just wanted the damn blood-pumping organ removed completely.

_I had no idea that you're in deep  
I dreamt about you near me every night this week_

He dreamed about her, even! Sometimes the dreams would be nightmares...so close to the current reality. Yes, he fought with her at world meetings. Yes, he still visited her at least once a week and vice versa. Yes, he made phone calls to her whenever he could and vice versa. That was the usual. His nightmares would entail her anger towards him returning, her damaging words leaving her gentle lips that used to hold so much love and adoration for him. Back when they kissed his lips for the first time. Back when they raked down his body for the first time.

            _"America, this is wrong-"_

_"No, it's not! I'm not a little girl, Arthur..." She whimpered, her tongue tracing his beautiful jaw line that was defined and strong._

_"I-I know..." Arthur gasped, a hand running down her back._

_"Oh, Arthur..." She moaned, straddling his slim hips, their ministrations to last through the night, steaming up the windows that were splattered with raindrops in his London home._

            Arthur buried his head into his pillow, sniffling and remembering the first time they made love. It was beautiful. Everything felt right. It was before all the taxes. It was before the revolution, before their confrontation in the pouring rain on that battlefield. He could've killed her right then. Stabbed her with the end of his fucking bayonet. Maybe he should have done so. Maybe if he stabbed her right through her heart, he'd never think about her ever again. Life just doesn't work that way...he couldn't shoot her. He couldn't stab her. He loved her. He'll never forget her haunting words. "You used to be...so...great." How could she just so blindly defeat him? What in the hell was her fucking secret?

 _How many secrets can you keep?_  
'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow  
When I play it on repeat  
Until I fall asleep  
Spilling drinks on my settee

            He couldn't stop thinking of her. Whenever a love song came on the radio. Whenever he heard his own fucking heartbeat. That damned sickening beat. He drank at home, now. He didn’t drink that often, just when it was extremely stressful, or if it was the 4th of July. Sometimes he'd go out with France as a "peace offering" but that wasn't very often. It tore him up inside to know that France could have better communication with America than he. Him and America hadn't spent a night together like they used to until the first day of World War II. America decided to join the fight truly after the Pearl Harbor incident, which left America bedridden and on the brink of death for several weeks. Arthur was there, the whole time. He held her hand. He kissed her forehead. He'd help her sit up. They slept in the same room. Amelia healed quickly, and her troops were getting ready to depart to Europe and the Pacific. The night before, they whispered to each other, kissing each other and steaming up windows again.

            _"Arthur...I-I'm sorry..." She whispered into the darkness of her room._

_"Hm?" He murmured, his face buried in her floral-smelling hair._

_"For everything.... f-for being annoying and hurting you like this. I should've involved myself more into this war as soon as I found out that you were getting slaughtered by Germany and the fuckin' blitzkriegs. Oh, Arthur...I'm sick of fighting with you!" She choked, holding closer to his slim body that seemed to hold her so tight. They held her like they used to when she had a nightmare._

_"America..."_

_"It's true, Arthur...I don't know...I don't know how I'd live without you. After...a-after the revolutionary war, I just...I was so happy to be away from you...I was free...in the war of 1812 I was still furious at you...I was so angry for everything you had done to me...for how you had doubted me..." She breathed, her lips teasingly touching his ear._

_"I was selfish..." Arthur admitted, kissing her temple._

_"We both were..." She sniffled, her lips connecting with his in a passionate flurry._

_(Baby we both know)_  
That the nights were mainly made for saying  
things that you can't say tomorrow day

_That continued for a few weeks, and then it stopped. The war got serious. It was obviously going to last longer than they had predicted. Meetings got serious. They'd end up arguing over the smallest things. Arthur would lash out, calling her idiotic and a horrible leader, which he'd want to secretly take back. The hurt in her eyes was laced with malice as she tried to get back at him, stammering in her responses. When he saw her silent tears, he didn't know how to feel. She was his everything. War got serious. The way they'd lock eyes during the meetings as France droned on and on about idiotic things, like sex and fashion._

_Crawlin' back to you._

            _He could see the bags forming underneath her eyes. The snide remarks she would make whenever he would leave her out of the mission plans. The mean-spirited remarks about how she’ll be “diabetic in a few years” and “could stand to lose some weight.” The stress was getting to all of them, and Arthur couldn’t stand it. One night, he went out with his members of parliament and had a drink. It was probably his 5 th glass of Whiskey before the lads called him up a cab, a bit drunk themselves, telling him to get some sleep. He was their nation after all._

_Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?  
'Cause I always do_

            _Arthur’s slim fingers rotated the dial on the phone, the annoying rings filling up his ears, his heart leaping into his throat when he heard America answer the phone, sleep heavy on her voice. Arthur forgot about the time change. He forgot about everything when he was drinking._

_“Amelia, oh love, I miss you so…” Arthur slurred softly into the receiver, biting his lip._

_“Arthur…you’re drunk. Get some sleep…I’m exhausted. Besides, why aren’t you debating whether you’re Catholic or Protestant? That’ll keep you up for at least a few more hours…and get you out of my hair. I don't have an official religion, you can’t ask for my opinion.” Amelia groaned, turning her head to see what time it was. 5:00AM in London. It was midnight where she was._

_“I’d rather talk about you, love. You know I love you very much, right? I love you…I’ve never stopped…” Arthur breathed, closing his eyes in happiness._

_Amelia took a deep breath, telling herself to calm down. Arthur was just drunk. She wished the words weren’t just drunk slurs, but she took it in stride. Arthur wasn’t an alcoholic – he didn’t drink that much. He just drank when he was stressed, or had a lot on his mind. This war was definitely something to drink about. Even she could drink to it. The only times she really noticed Arthur drunk off his ass was during stressful situations and the 4 th of July, of course. _

_“I know you do…” Amelia whispered, staring at the moon outside her window. “Arthur…please get some rest. You have to wake up in a few hours. The sun is already rising where you are…” Amelia sighed softly, always feeling weird when she had to speak like this to Arthur._

_“Remember when I used to tell you to go to bed? I would always kiss your temple and tuck you in…and you’d beg me to tell you stories…those ‘boring old stories’?” Arthur dreamily sighed, curling up._

_“Yeah…” Amelia smiled, biting back a giggle, “I called them ‘boring old stories’ and you told me that they were history…and I’d make some of my own someday…” Amelia couldn’t help but smile brighter. She tried to get a way to control her heartbeat, but she couldn’t._

_Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new  
Now I've thought it through_

_“Y’know…some woman came up to me tonight in the pub, love…” Arthur cleared his throat, settling in comfortably._

_“Is that so?” Amelia bit her lip, feeling sleepy once more. She knew that she was going to be out like a light in a matter of seconds._

_“Mmhm. She wanted me to take her home…” Arthur smirked, shaking his head. “I told her to sod off. I said I had a girl at home…I’m so in love with you. I can’t fucking forget you…why is it like this? I can’t…why do you always get me crawling back…?” Arthur sighed into the phone, pitiful._

_All he could hear was the soft breathing of Amelia on the end of the line. She had fallen asleep. He swallowed and whispered a soft good night before hanging up the phone._

_Crawling back to you_

            _Arthur remembered that he had the worst headache the next morning at the meeting, and he could only remember that he tried calling Amelia. He rubbed his temples as he blew on his hot tea, waiting for France and Russia to make it to the meeting. It always blew his mind that China would make it on time, and he lived on the other side of the globe, on a totally different time schedule._

_Amelia was stirring her spoon in her coffee. Well, Arthur really couldn’t call it that. It was no longer coffee – it was full of creamer and at least 6 spoons full of sugar. He raised an eyebrow at her as he brought his teacup to his lips, watching her not make eye contact with him._

_He realized that he must’ve said some off the wall things last night. However, he didn’t want to justify them, so he figured that it would be better off that he didn’t ask._

            Arthur felt his eyes getting heavy as he heard more fireworks in the background, sick of the relentless flashbacks. All those stolen glances, all those whispered phone calls…but nothing could compare to the feeling of having her body next to his.

_So have you got the guts?_

            How could he forget those exhilarating moments during breaks at the Allied meetings, finding each other in some broom closet, or finding some empty conference room? While it didn’t happen often, the few times that it did were beautiful. Arthur would always feel a bit weird at first. This was the woman he was arguing with and being bitter with during meetings. The woman who fought for independence from him and yet who would beg to be taken.

            _“Don’t…why are you stopping?” America asked, biting her lip. “Are you alright?”_

_“Yeah, I’m fine, love…” Arthur nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, “it’s just…don't you sometimes think it’s weird?”_

_“Haha…” Amelia rolled her eyes and laughed that loud, obnoxious laugh, “yeah, sometimes. But I think it adds more fun. I love when you get all sassy with me during meetings. It just shows your old man complex…”_

_“Hey!” Arthur exclaimed, nipping her ear. “You know I'm not old.” Arthur sighed, moving his hips just a bit, making her eyes flutter back. “See?”_

_“Oh, anybody could do that…” Amelia taunted, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I guess I could say that you still have it…”_

_Been wondering if your heart's still open and  
if so I wanna know what time it shuts_

            Arthur glared outside the window, seeing yet another red colored firework exploding in the sky. He hated how much they sounded like cannons going off, or guns being fired. The noises were just so damn loud. When you’re a nation, you see a lot of war. It doesn’t erode you down as much as it does your people, but you can still feel remnants of it in your bones. He cleared his throat and desperately tried to tune out the fireworks. Did Americans ever fucking sleep? He smirked to himself when he was propelled back in time once again.

            _“Amelia, it is 3 in the morning! What is it?” Arthur cursed, annoyed. He was staying at her house for a brief period in 1950, discussing the Marshall Plan. Amelia was quite proud of it, but Arthur was less enthused. He felt like he was pushed down a bit, accepting $3.3 Billion dollars from his former colony to help rebuild his nation. He knew he was lucky that London was still standing due to the Blitzkriegs from ’40._

_“Shh, I’m working on something!” She shouted from behind her bedroom door, causing Arthur to just burst in._

_“Ame—“_

_“ARTHUR! YOU RUINED IT!” She shrieked, throwing her body over her piece of poster board. She was obviously making him a large card to celebrate the relationship between their two countries. They were rebuilding the west together, and Amelia thought it was an amazing thing._

_“What are you making?” Arthur smiled just barely, walking over to see the sloppily made card. Arthur swore that Amelia still did art like a child, but paid no mind._

_“Ugh, it was going to be some kind of card for you to take back home tomorrow. I just wanted to say that I got your back. I hope that the plan works for you and the rest of Western Europe. We have to keep a strong hold on our side of the iron curtain, y’know?” Amelia sighed, running a hand through her messy blonde hair._

_“Yes, I know…” Arthur breathed, looking over to see Amelia putting up her crayons and markers. He let out a small laugh, realizing that she was just so young. Of course, she had physically aged to 19, but it still just surprised him to see her mannerisms. He was just physically 23 himself, but he had been around much longer._

_“What’s so funny?” Amelia sighed, obviously not understanding why the hell Arthur let out a little giggle at her._

_“You.” Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “Well, now that you’ve quieted down, I’m going to head back to bed. It’s not going to be a fun flight back to London tomorrow.” Arthur stretched, immediately feeling Amelia’s iron grip around his midsection._

_“Artie, come on! It’s your last night here! We could just sleep in the same room and talk. Come on, please?” Amelia smiled, causing Arthur to give in._

_“Fine. What do you want to-“_

_“20 questions!” Amelia shouted, quickly sitting crisscross on her bed, yanking Arthur to sit across from her._

_Arthur raised an eyebrow. Amelia always loved 20 questions, and he really should’ve seen this coming. It was always a contest of who could fluster the other the most…but Arthur had a question on his mind that was really eating at him that would probably result in a flustered Amelia._

_“Is your heart still open?” He whispered quietly, seeing Amelia’s face soften._

_“Is yours?” Amelia blushed, biting her bottom lip._

_“I asked you first…” Arthur breathed, quickly finding himself kissing Amelia in her bed, his hands traveling up her sides._

_Simmer down and pucker up_

  
Arthur groaned and felt his eyes start to become heavy as it came around 2:00AM. He couldn’t believe that he was reminiscing about Amelia for nearly 2 hours. He ran a hand through his messy hair, lying on his back, staring back up at the ceiling. He could still feel the ghost of her lips on his, and he wished he could forget it. He would think it a billion times over, but he wished that he didn’t get involved with Amelia. If he had just held back his impulses, he would have never fallen for Amelia’s whine of, _“I’m not a baby anymore, Arthur.”_

            Well she damn well acted like one for several years. She was so childish. He grimaced as he remembered what he hissed at her on the rainy battlefield during the Revolutionary War, just when he was about to stab her with his bayonet.

            _“Why can’t you follow anything through to the end?”_

            Arthur turned onto his side, trying to calm himself. He found it hard to believe that it was all 200 years ago. He was such an old nation – of course, he wasn’t physically old or anything, but he had been around much longer than Amelia. He had gone through several phases, and he learned something new through each of them. He squeezed his eyes shut. What did he learn from these past 200 years?

            He learned that hell hath no fury like an Amelia scorned, of course. She “beat” him in every “war” they fought in, to the point that she had him end up in her bed once again, and him wrapped around her finger. Any moment she wanted to yank him in, he’d come to her. He couldn’t understand it. He didn’t do that with Australia, New Zealand, or Canada. He didn’t do it to India. Why was it America? Why did America always have him up in arms, running back to her?

            Why would he pucker up his lips in the hopes of touching hers? He could fly off the handle sometimes. He was not shy at expressing frustration and annoyance – but Amelia was able to counteract him each time – usually ending up in a furious yelling match which would cause France to mutter something about “sexual tensions.” France obviously knew what went on behind the scenes, but surprisingly didn’t lead on that much.

 _I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly_  
on the cusp of trying to kiss you

            Arthur was able to remember every word of their conversations, sometimes. When Amelia visited him in London in 1968, it was like nothing ever before. Tensions were high in both Arthur and Amelia’s homes. She was in the midst of the Vietnam War, and a large anti-American feel was spewing out of England and France. Amelia hated her boss with a passion, and almost always felt like she had a terrible head cold with all the protests and in fighting that occurred. Amelia was putting pressure on Arthur about the Suez crisis, and so was Canada. Everything was going to hell. He knew that Amelia and Matthew were getting close. He always watched the relationship very closely. He had always seen Matthew as a very mature man – a little on the quiet and unnoticeable side, but he was always fiercely loyal. However, Matthew had been basically free from Arthur’s direction for several years.

            Arthur knew that Matthew and Amelia were always close, but he could just tell that something was closer between them in 1968. Arthur wanted to get to the bottom of it. He had done his part – he took his troops out of the Suez Canal, and completely backed up – just as Canada wanted him to do – just as Canada persuaded Amelia to join his side to put pressure on Arthur.

            He invited Amelia over for a discussion at his home. He didn’t invite Francis – Arthur knew that Amelia’s closest ally was himself. After all, it was always deemed the “special relationship” for a reason. If only their leaders knew exactly what type of “relationship” it was. He knew that the Queen would have his neck, and he definitely knew that Amelia’s boss didn’t like her already – and she hated him just as much.

            _“I’m glad that you followed the UN’s orders, pulling out of the Suez. I can’t tell you how relieved Matthew was. He didn’t know if it was going to work or not. I’m just glad we were able to deescalate the situation. Of course, it’s still a—“_

_Arthur had quickly meshed his lips upon Amelia’s as she spoke, causing her blue eyes to widen. She stumbled a bit, and then quickly averted her lips, staring at him in absolute shock._

_“Arthur!” Amelia snarled, clenching her fists._

_“I…”_

_“What is the meaning of this? I know we like to fool around, but this is different…now.” Amelia swallowed awkwardly, obviously missing the feel of Arthur’s lips._

_“I just have a question. I want to get to the bottom of it. Since I still do have power over Canada, I believe that I can intervene in his relations…” Arthur cleared his throat, seeing Amelia raise an eyebrow._

_“What is this about? Mattie’s fine—“_

_“It’s about you and him, Amelia.” Arthur quickly snapped, seeing Amelia’s mouth shut in surprise._

_“…What about us?” Amelia crossed her arms, challenging Arthur._

_“You know damn well what I’m talking about. The relations between you two have never been stronger. I can’t even call Matthew without hearing your voice in the background.”_

_“Is that what you’re so pissed off about? You have got to be kidding me. Your grip on everyone is slipping, Arthur. You don’t have full jurisdiction over Mattie anymore. Canada is a nation in his own right, and he’s strong. We’ve been building up on his economy. We’re the strongest allies to each other-“_

_“He’s your brother, Amelia!” Arthur tried grasping for straws, seeing that he was losing._

_“My God, Arthur! If Mattie is considered my ‘brother’ than so are you! Don’t you remember telling me to look at you like a ‘big brother’ when you found me in the plains? Huh? Mattie is not my brother, and neither are you.” Amelia snarled, quickly grabbing the coat she had discarded on one of Arthur’s chairs._

_“Wait, Amelia, don’t go, I just got caught up. Look, we need to discuss-“_

_“There’s nothing to discuss, Arthur. There is no ‘special relationship’ now. Haven’t you heard? My leaders are now calling it more of a ‘natural relationship.’ Of course we had a damn relationship. You basically brought me into the world sphere. You settled my colonies, but I fought you. I fought you, and I won. You don’t own me. Our relationship is just ‘natural.’ It’s not ‘special’ and you know it, Arthur.” Amelia bit her bottom lip in frustration, gripping her jacket tightly. “Don’t make this harder…” her voice cracked, “than it has to be…”_

\--

            Arthur was grateful that now, in 1976, their relations were much better. The 60s was a rough time for everyone, especially Amelia. Now that she was officially out of the Vietnam crisis and didn’t have to worry about Nixon, she was much more relaxed. Arthur rubbed his eyes, finally hearing the last of the fireworks. He breathed out of his nose in relief. Finally. Silence. However, he knew the sound of silence was sometimes worse, and he found himself reminiscing just a few months back.

_I don't know if you feel the same as I do  
But we could be together, if you wanted to_

           _It was a rainy day in London, and Amelia had finally come for a visit. While they did usually see each other once a week with their visits, Amelia usually hated coming to London. She found it too cold, too rainy, and too stuffy. Arthur would always love to have her in his country, though. She was like a breath of fresh air…albeit; she was embarrassing whenever she would beg to get on the Eye, or say, “It’s three past BONG” in front of Big Ben._

_They hadn’t been very affectionate lately. The relationship between himself and Amelia was something that a psychologist would have to study for years upon years. While they did have loving moments, they never had a label. He had absolutely no territory within her, and she likewise with him. They didn’t share jurisdiction – except for West Germany, but that was more of Ludwig’s thing. They just had a British and American sector in West Berlin. They had been out of contact for a while. Arthur knew her 200 th birthday was arriving soon. Him and Amelia stopped touching each other, exchanging glances at meetings. Arthur was all right with that. He was never a “touchy feely” man. Amelia could protest sometimes, but it was hardly ever seen. Arthur knew his relationship with Amelia was a weird one. It had such a complicated history, but a history that he believed neither of them would trade. It was 1976, and Arthur knew that Amelia, along with the rest of America, were excited to come upon their 200th year mark. Arthur grimaced a bit and agreed to go to her birthday celebration in New York City on the 4th. He felt blood creeping up into his throat but was able to swallow it down and smile in agreement._

            They had just gotten into Arthur’s beautiful flat near Parliament, and Amelia was yanking off her raincoat. Her shift dress hung off her just perfectly as she hung the coat up, smiling over at him as he pulled his off, closing the umbrella.

            _“Well…have you had any ladies over lately, Artie?” Amelia teased, checking around the flat for any signs of female inhabitants._

_“Unless you count the female Corgi I had to babysit for my lovely Queen, no.” Arthur smirked, walking into his kitchen, “Would you like some tea?”_

_“Yeah, I guess.” Amelia responded, shrugging and flopping down on the couch. “Why don't you have a girlfriend? Don’t you get lonely?” Amelia lilted, looking up at the ceiling._

_Arthur raised an eyebrow, walking back into the living room as he allowed the kettle to boil. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe._

_“Why do you ask?”_

_“No reason…it’s just…I want you happy…y’know?” Amelia sighed, biting her plump bottom lip. Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes._

_“We could be together…”_

_Amelia immediately took on a confused expression. Arthur refrained from rolling his emerald eyes in annoyance, and stood up straight._

_“…If you wanted to.”_

           _Just then, the kettle went off, and Arthur quickly rushed back into the kitchen, thanking God for the amazing timing. He couldn’t believe he just said that to her, but he quickly brought her a teacup and sat across from her with his._

         _Amelia didn’t bring it up again once she got her tea, slowly bringing it to her lips. She looked away and then looked into his eyes and talked into the night, tucking her bare feet underneath her, wondering if Arthur would ever realize that times were changing, and they couldn’t play like they had during the whole entire history of her life._

            Arthur was relieved to find that he had slept for a few hours upon waking up at 9:00AM. He cleared his throat and crawled out of bed, putting on his clothes and brushing his teeth. He assumed that Amelia would still be asleep, but since Matthew and Francis were also staying with her, breakfast was probably being prepared already.

            Arthur filed out of his room and saw the two men in Amelia’s kitchen. Matthew was flipping the pancakes and Francis was so focused on getting his crepes just right.

            “See, _Mathieu_?” Francis proudly stood back from his beautifully created crepe, “it’s a good thing you have my blood running through your veins.”

            Matthew rolled his eyes and pulled the skillet off of the stove, stacking the pancakes on a plate.

            “Yeah, alright. I guess I can thank you for that…” Matthew whispered as always, clearly holding some passive aggressive stance. However, Arthur could tell that Matthew enjoyed the banter.

            “I mean, you have to at least give me a _merci_! How many times have you made Amelia the best breakfast after a rigorous night of lovemaking? Why-“

            Arthur decided to tune out the rest of Francis’ sentence, stomping over to Amelia’s stove and putting the kettle on. Francis immediately pinned his mouth shut, realizing that Arthur was actually awake.

            “ _Bonjour_ , Arthur.” Francis cleared his throat, “How did you sleep?”

            “Terribly. Those fucking Americans are always so loud. Damn their damn fireworks… until 2 in the morning! My God…” Arthur vented his frustration as he stood against Amelia’s counter, waiting for the kettle to squeal. He couldn’t help but look at the island in the middle of the kitchen, remembering how many times he had pushed her up against it.

            “Ah, yeah…I’m used to that,” Matthew cleared his soft voice, searching for the maple syrup in the pantry, “a lot of my citizens even travel down to visit when the 4th comes around.” Matthew sighed when he couldn’t find the syrup, “Did Amelia seriously throw it out? Ugh, I told her it’s not supposed to taste like that sugary fake maple crap…”

            “Ah yes, it’s such a joyful celebration to see little Amelia all grown! Ah, I remember when we first spotted Amelia in the plains…and then I saw _Mathieu!_ ” Francis began to get emotional, and Arthur slapped him upside the head.

            “Ah, stop getting so sentimental you frog. They’re grown up. Plus, Matthew became my territory.” Arthur was sure to stress the last part, making sure Matthew knew exactly who he was supposed to answer to.

            “ _Qui,_ but Mathieu has French speaking areas…and look at his handsome hair! Obviously from his papa.” Francis boasted, flipping his hair.

            Matthew blushed, not knowing what to do with all this attention. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally found the real maple syrup, and made sure to open it. Just at that time, he heard footsteps racing down the stairs.

            “Wow! Look at this food! But wait…what are you guys going to eat?” Amelia questioned, scratching the top of her head.

            “ _Mon Dieu_ …” Francis rolled his eyes, smiling at the affection obvious between Matthew and Amelia as she kissed Matthew on the cheek.

            Amelia bit her bottom lip and hugged around Matthew’s waist, nuzzling into his neck. Her relationship with Matthew was something different – it brought stability. They never got into heated spats – except for when he would be picked on for coming across as ‘America’s Whipping Boy.’ Or when Amelia would accidentally overlook him. The relationship was calm – defined. She was madly in love with him, and he was madly in love with her. She began to somewhat regret ignoring Matthew for all those years. She cleared her throat, jumping when the kettle went off.

            Arthur walked back into the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with Amelia. She quickly detached herself from Matthew’s side and kept her mouth shut. She could feel that there was tension just swarming around Arthur, and she didn’t want to add to it. He seemed fine yesterday. Of course, he never seems fine on her birthday, always coughing up blood or something. But he seemed like he was at least a little better this year. Amelia just chalked it up to being her 200th. It was another milestone for her nation. She watched him pour his tea and sit down at the kitchen table.

            That was when he made eye contact with her.

            They stared at each other for a moment, her blue eyes immediately reading his green. She fought back tears; thanking God that Francis and Matthew were talking to each other and not witnessing the exchange of heated glances between herself and Arthur. He brought the teacup to his lips and cleared his throat, grabbing the newspaper on the table. Amelia moved to sit across from Arthur, playing with her thumbs.

            Before hiding behind his newspaper, his olive green eyes, hiding tears, stayed locked on her blue, and he saw her shiver.

_Do you want me crawling back to you?_


End file.
